


Gimme Shelter

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blackmail, Brief Reference to Past Abuse, Canon Disabled Character, Captivity, Coercive Sex, Drunk Dialing, Espionage, Gen, Homelessness, Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Issues, Sex Work, Sexual Content, Species trafficking, Violence, insensitivity, non consensual sex, some kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21322933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: This is where I will post any Tumblr prompts I receive (same name there - aewriting).Most recent chapters:13) Michael and Isobel try to take Max out after Liz leaves Roswell.  It doesn't go well.14) Alex drunk-dials Michael during the last decade.15) Snippet of Alex's POV for "All Kinds of Time"
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 160
Kudos: 338





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: You're the asshole of our group and we don't get along, but then I find out you make soup for the local shelter.

Alex has never been inside the 8th Street Shelter before. He’s known it was here – on a few really bad nights, after his dad had been in a particularly mean mood, he’d thought about coming here. They’d have to help a kid with a busted face, right? But he’d never followed through – always figured they’d have to call it in, which meant Jim, which meant Dad.

Today, he was here on official business. He still couldn’t believe, sometimes, that he’d re-upped. If his 17 year old self could see him now…

Well, there’s a lot his 17 year old self wouldn’t have believed about the current life he leads, the company he keeps…

The conspiracies he dismantles.

And that, at its core, is why he’s still in. Easier to take Project Shepherd down from the inside, to keep… the remaining aliens safe, and atone for his father’s horrific decisions. _That’s _why he’s still wearing the uniform.

But some days, like today, he’s just a glorified deliveryman.

He smiles at the friendly-looking woman behind the reception desk. “Good afternoon. I’m Captain Manes.”

“Yes, Captain!” The woman smiles widely, gives him a subtle, approving once over. Alex tries not to flush. “We’ve been expecting you. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to Angela, our director, and you can walk us through these pamphlets you’ve brought with you.”

“Thanks.” Alex follows her to a little office down the hall. A middle-aged woman with grey-streaked black hair greets him and ushers him to sit.

“Ah, Captain, thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” Alex says with a small smile.

“We occasionally get veterans here at the shelter, and we just wanted to be sure we are providing them with updated information about services that are available for them through the VA, but the nearest community clinic is 45 minutes south, in Artesia.”

Alex spreads the pamphlets in front of him. “I understand. The base had these extra handouts, and we are happy to bring them to you. The VA’s very motivated to help alleviate the issue of homelessness in the veteran community, so they’d certainly appreciate any referrals you might have,” Alex says smoothly.

He and the women chat a bit more about the various VA services that are available. Alex is about to excuse himself when he smells an aroma, rich and savory. Angela notices, smiles at him. “Stay for lunch, Captain?” she asks.

“I… I wouldn’t want to take food away from people that really need it,” Alex says quickly. “But it does smell delicious.”

“Come, now, Captain. We can certainly spare one bowl before we send you on your way.”

Not wanting to appear rude, Alex acquiesces and follows Angela into what looks like a cafeteria. “Wait here,” she says, after ensuring that Alex is seated at a table. It’s still early, only a little after noon, and there are only a few people already eating.

Angela returns with two bowls of what looks like chili, with two small servings of corn bread. She sets one portion in front of Alex, and he smiles. “You picked the right day to stop by,” she says, voice a little lower. “Our volunteer today makes the best chili, in my opinion.”

Alex smiles politely and eats a spoonful. “Oh wow,” he says. “That’s delicious!”

“Isn’t it?” Angela says. “It’s a nice story, actually. The gentleman who makes the chili was actually one of our residents years ago. He’s since secured regular housing, but still takes the time to give back a few times a month.”

Alex smiles, warm and genuine. “That’s incredible. Please tell him thank you for me, for letting me have some of this, and for giving his time to such a good cause.”

Angela shrugs. “You can thank him yourself. He’ll probably be here through the lunch service.”

Alex nods. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

They speak a bit more about the VA services, and some of the barriers that the residents of the shelter face. Alex agrees to spread the word that they’re always looking for donations of unopened toiletries – he figures some folks at the base would be willing to help out with that. Once he finishes his chili, he picks up his cap and makes a motion to leave.

“Would you like to give your regards to the chef?” Angela says with a wink.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Alex replies quickly, straightening his uniform.

“This way,” Angela says, using her key card to usher Alex through a door to the cafeteria.

It smells even better inside the kitchen, Alex thinks, spicy, warm, and oddly familiar. Alex hears Angela speaking to him. “He’s the young man over there, about your age, curly hair – “

Shit. It’s Michael, because of _course _it is. Alex closes his eyes. They haven’t talked, one on one, in months.

“Howdy, Private.” Michael’s staring at him, a little smirk on his face.

“Michael, this is Captain Manes,” Angela says. “He was raving about your chili, and I thought I’d let him meet the chef!”

“Oh, I know Alex,” Michael says with a wicked grin. Angela’s smile falters, just for a moment.

Alex clears his throat. “I, uh, grew up here in Roswell. Michael and I were in school together.” Michael’s eyes narrow at him, just a bit. Alex raises an eyebrow. It’s not a lie…

Angela seems to sense the awkwardness. “Well, um, I’ll just let you two catch up, then. Michael, could you show Captain Manes out when he’s ready to go?”

“Sure thing,” Michael replies with a sweet smile. He watches the door swing closed behind Angela, and then the smile drops away. “Alex…” he says, like it’s a curse. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off pamphlets. About the VA, services for homeless vets. Just want to make sure people know their options, you know? Especially now that… um, now that it’s getting cold at night.”

Michael’s mouth twists a little. “Well look at you. Some things never change, huh?” And Alex knows that right then, they’re both remembering another conversation, another time, another attempt at safety and shelter.

Alex should leave. He’s here on official business, and chatting with Michael is anything but.

“So you liked the chili?” Michael asks, almost slyly.

Alex sighs, gives him a half smile. “Yeah, it was really good. I had no idea you could cook like that.” He looks down. “This is nice,” he says quietly, “what you’re doing here.”

Michael shrugs. “Yeah, well, I owe ‘em. They helped me out in a pinch. This is kind of the best way I can think to pay them back right now.”

The curiosity is too strong, and Alex can’t help but ask the main question that’s on his mind. “When were you here? Angela said you stayed here for a while.”

Michael seems to withdraw a little, shut down. “Yeah, uh, that was a while back. Winter after we graduated. I, um, was living out of my truck still, and that was a bad winter.” He shrugs a shoulder. “For lots of reasons.”

“I didn’t know,” Alex says softly.

“Course you didn’t,” Michael says matter-of-factly. “You were long gone.”

Alex feels a rush of anger – at himself, at his father, then Max. Isobel. “Max and Isobel?”

Michael sniffs a little. “They didn’t know. It’s not like I was shouting it from the rooftops that I was living at a homeless shelter. And it was only for that winter, before I saved up enough to get the Airstream. I was still working at Sanders’ the whole time. And, um, nobody was in a very good place that winter. So, I just kind of dealt with it.”

“I wish you hadn’t had to. Not by yourself,” Alex says, and the words surprise the both of them.

“Yeah, well, can’t change the past.” Michael looks at Alex pointedly. “You and I both know that.”

Alex nods and makes a noncommittal noise. They’re quiet, then, for a too long moment, before the door swings open.

“Oh there you are, Captain! Didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Yes, but I’m on my way out.”

“I can walk you to the front.”

“Thank you,” Alex says tightly. He turns to Michael. “Guerin.”

Michael gives a humorless little smirk, tips his head. “Private.”

The door is half closed behind Alex when he hears Michael’s voice. “I’ll, uh, I’ll text you the recipe, if you want.”

Alex stops, turns, gives what he hopes is a genuine smile. “I’d like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Coming home, and Michael."

“That’s the last of them, Professor.”

Michael smiled at her, big and genuine. “Thanks, Susan. Lucky us, with the late final, huh?”

She shrugged. “Someone had to get it, I guess.”

Michael nodded. “Here,” he said, handing her approximately one-third of the test booklets, “you take these, and I’ll get the rest.”

“This isn’t very many,” she said, a small frown on her face.

“Trust me, it’ll be plenty,” said Michael. “Do you have any questions about the grading rubric, especially on the essays?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Just let me know if you do. I’ll be on email the whole break.”

Susan nodded. “Same. I’ll try to get them in as soon as possible, though. Deadline’s the 23rd, I think. My flight home doesn’t leave till the 22nd, so it gives me some time.”

“You’re from Cincinnati, right?”

She smiled. “Yup. How about you. You staying in town?” she asked.

“Nah,” Michael said quickly. “I’m going home.”

***

Michael smiled to himself the further he got from Albuquerque. As he took the turn off 40 East to 285, he turned off the radio and let himself just enjoy the look of the desert, the feel of it.

He wasn’t made for cities. After almost a decade in Albuquerque, he still wasn’t totally comfortable there. He had his apartment, sure, but it wasn’t _home_.

Home. He… he never thought he’d have that. He realizes, now, that he didn’t even know what home was, growing up. He knows now.

He’d bristled, at first, at the suggestion that he go to UNM, maybe mostly because it was Alex doing the suggesting.

“Liz can only do so much with her lab, Guerin,” he’d told him, voice firm. “If you want to bring back Max – “

“_If?” _Michael’d interrupted, harsh and angry.

Alex had set his jaw. “To bring back Max, you need better equipment. That means infiltrating somewhere that has it. Closest lab with the access Liz needs is UNM.”

Michael had fought it, said awful things to Alex. Accused him of just wanting him gone, out of the way. But then he’d started classes, joined a lab, and, god… it just fit.

He’d taken Alex out for lunch almost a year later, gave him a real apology.

Discussions about Project Shepherd turned into movie nights, a stolen weekend exploring Albuquerque. Extra sets of keys. A drawer. And then, later, rings. Vows. A whole damn life together.

Michael still has the apartment in Albuquerque. But home is the cabin.

No, home is _Alex._

He smiles as he takes the turn and climbs up into the mountains. There’s snow falling, gently now. He reaches the little clearing and can smell the wood smoke before he sees it, curling into the sky from the little chimney. He parks the truck and takes the stairs quickly to the door. Opens it.

He loves this moment, always, seeing Alex’s face break into a smile. He’s curled up on the sofa with his laptop, like a cat, right next to the fire. Their dog, sweet old girl, has draped herself over his foot, lazy and protective at the same time. Alex is wearing that threadbare UNM hoodie that Michael bought him on their first weekend together in Albuquerque, years ago. Alex makes a movement to rise, but Michael holds up a hand and quickly closes the distance between them. Leans down. Kisses him deeply, the way you can only kiss someone you love. Smiles.

“I’m home.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Coming home, and Alex."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, this contains explicit sexual content. It takes place following Alex's first deployment, and he is not in a good place.

It’s Alex, but it isn’t.

Like, of course it’s Alex, just… _not._

He, he knows, obviously, that it’s Alex, but there are differences. If Michael’s being very shallow, then, um, the body, number one. He hates that Alex is in the Air Force. _Hates _it. But god damn, if Michael didn’t know Alex from Adam, if he was just some guy he ran into in a bar, holy fuck…

He’d be dragging him into a bathroom stall, on his knees so fast…

But it’s Alex, and this look… it isn’t sitting right on him. Not the Air Force bulk of him, not the buzzcut, certainly not the handful of new scars littering his skin.

And definitely not this… this…

“Harder, Guerin. Fuck.” A pause. “Come on, harder, god damn it.”

Michael bites his lip, hesitates.

That finally gets him some eye contact, Alex whipping his head around to look at him, glare at him. “I won’t fucking break, just come _on._” And Michael watches as Alex shoves his own body back against Michael. Hard. Harder than he should, Michael thinks.

“Yeah,” Alex mutters, the force of their fucking driving him down onto his elbows now, from his hands. Then, softer, “I wanna forget, Guerin. Just… help me forget.”

***

When it’s done, Michael reaches for him, wants to touch his shoulder, coax him to turn over, settle over him and touch his face. Kiss him. Hold him. Just… be close.

Alex is already out of the bed, halfway to the bathroom.

***

Michael hadn’t known what to think when he’d gotten the text, two hours earlier.

_Back in town. Rodeway Inn, 2nd St. Room 202._

Maybe it’s pathetic that he would drop everything for Alex. Maybe it’s not.

***

Michael feels awkward, naked in the bed, waiting for Alex. He debates whether he should start getting dressed, but he doesn’t want Alex to think that he’s trying to duck out, trying to leave.

The bathroom door opens and there’s Alex, silhouetted by the light, fully nude. Michael can’t stop staring.

Alex snags his boxers, pulls them on. Still isn’t quite looking at Michael.

“How long you in town?” Michael asks.

“About a week,” Alex replies. Michael waits for him to say more, say something, but the silence stretches out. “No one knows I’m here yet. No one but you.”

Michael gives a little nod. Alex is sitting on the bed, now, almost within touching distance. “You… you okay?”

Alex laughs, a little. It’s not a nice sound, and his bare shoulders heave up a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay, Guerin.”

***

Michael knows how it feels to just fuck to forget. He’s been doing it for years.

But he doesn’t want to do it with Alex.

***

Alex pulls out a bottle of water, Michael doesn’t know from where. Offers it to Michael, who guzzles it greedily. Alex actually looks a little approving at that, gives him another bottle.

“Thanks,” Michael says.

“You’re welcome,” Alex responds quietly, automatically. He looks at Michael, eyes trailing from his mouth down to his chest, down further. Alex licks his lips, a quick movement that would be easy to miss if you weren’t staring.

“You, um…” Alex starts. “You up for another round?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, puts down the water bottle. “Uh, yeah… sure.” Narrows his eyes a little. “Are you?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m the one who brought it up, Guerin. Yeah, I’m down.”

Michael nods a little, considers it. “Yeah. Okay.” He leans back down onto the bed, lowers the sheet so he’s fully exposed. Watches as Alex’s breath hitches. “This time, though, you’re fucking me.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “Wha-what?”

And there it is. There it fucking is. For the first time tonight, there’s a glimpse of the Alex he knows. Knew? Fell in love with. That hint of surprise. Wonder. Softness.

“Yeah,” Michael says, surer now. “Want you to fuck me, Alex.” Alex frowns, and suddenly Michael begins doubting. “I mean, if… if you want to.”

“_Yes_,” Alex says quickly, emphatically. “Yes, I want to, it’s just,” the frown deepens, “are _you _okay with that?” He shakes his head, just a little. “I guess, I guess I just never thought you wanted to try that with me, I mean…”

“I want to,” Michael says softly. “Want to try it. With you.”

Alex blinks, blinks like he did in the museum, like he can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe he’s hearing this. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.” And before Michael can really even register it, Alex is there – his _real _Alex, reaching a hand to his face. “You sure?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Michael breathes.

There’s a smile, then, a real one, then a kiss, their first of the night. First in over a year, since before Alex’s deployment. There’s tongue now, and heat, and how is it like this? How is it that Alex pulls these feelings out of him, this _want? _This affection and… peace. It doesn’t happen with other people, not like this. He’s tried.

Alex pulls back a little. “You ever… um… have you ever done this before?” And hell if that doesn’t send Michael straight back to the shed, to that perfect moment in time before it all went so wrong.

“No.”

***

Alex is careful with Michael. So careful, in a way that reassures him, not so much for his own well-being, but for Alex’s. It had been missing, earlier. He’s relieved, so relieved that it’s back.

Alex is deep in him and Michael’s looking up at him, meeting his eyes with every movement. “I…I know you wanted to forget,” Michael gets out, breaths coming ragged. He reaches a hand up to Alex’s face, traces the cheekbone. “But I wanted to remember.”

Alex gasps out a breath and brings their faces close together. “God, Michael, yeah,” he murmurs. “I… I’m close, I’m –“

“Yeah,” Michael pants. “Yeah, me too.”

***

They’re tangled up in each other. Alex is asleep, and Michael wants to just listen. Wants to freeze time and stay here. Honestly? Wants to rewind time, if he could. Because each time Alex comes back, it feels like there’s less of him, like the _real _him gets harder to recover.

And Michael… Michael doesn’t want to forget.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle to Alex: "You need to get laid."

“You need to get laid.”

Alex stops typing, turns around slowly in the chair. “What?”

Kyle clears his throat, says it again. “You need to get laid, man. You’re working way too much down here. It’s like I never see you unless I’m here.”

Alex is just staring at him, eyes narrow.

“And I know a lot of shit went down between you and Guerin, even though you won’t tell me exactly what, so… I’m guessing it’s been a while.”

Alex’s jaw tightens, almost imperceptibly.

“And… you just seem really stressed. So, anything that would make you less stressed, I’m all for it.”

The silence is lengthy. Uncomfortable.

“You done?” Alex finally asks, voice even, but just barely.

“Um…”

Alex heaves a sigh, turns around in his chair and starts typing again. Kyle licks his lips, walks closer to Alex.

“Alex, I’m just –“

“_Kyle,” _Alex says sharply, holding out a hand and closing his eyes. He takes one of those new, deep breaths of his and speaks. “Back off, okay? You don’t know the first thing about my, my sex life.”

Kyle frowns. “Um, okay. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Alex whirls around again in the chair, catching Kyle off guard. “Talk?” He snorts a little. “Yeah, fine, we’ll talk. Tell me, Kyle, how easy is it for _you_ to get laid?”

“Wha-what?” Kyle sputters.

“Yeah,” says Alex. “Hot doctor like you, good paycheck, good face, good body – “

“Um, thanks?” Kyle says, looking down at himself.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Kyle, if you walked into the Pony right now, what do you think are the chances that you could leave with someone?”

Kyle swallows slowly, really considers the question. “Um… high.”

Alex scoffs a bit. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Real easy for someone like you to just ‘get laid’ if he needs to blow off a little steam, huh?”

Kyle starts to see where this is going. “Shit, Alex, I didn’t mean – “

“No, of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just something stupid you say to someone that seems uptight. ‘Oh, you need to get laid.’” Alex says it in a low voice, mocking. “I heard that enough in the Air Force, believe me.” He cocks his head to the side. “But it’s not quite as easy for me, is it, Kyle?” His mouth twists a little. “Especially not here.”

Kyle is quiet, just watches Alex.

Alex stares at Kyle for a long moment, seeming to consider his words before continuing. “You… you know what it was like for me, here, in high school.” Kyle looks at the ground, uncomfortable. “You led the charge.” Alex bites his lip a little. “And then, then I was in a setting where it was… was actually _illegal _for me to, to seek something out. With another guy.”

Alex leans back in the chair, then, and his face takes on an unfamiliar look, almost smug. “Didn’t stop me entirely, though. I’d get leave sometimes, go to clubs, bars, you know. And guess what?” He raises an eyebrow, doesn’t wait for a response. “Guys actually _wanted _me.” He laughs a little. “Like, wanted to suck my dick, fuck me, have me fuck them. Who knew?” He shakes his head a little. “It’s not like I could do much else other than that, couldn’t exactly have a real relationship, with all the military shit, but getting laid? Yeah, sure. Wasn’t hard, given the right setting.”

He meets Kyle’s eyes, then. “Kind of a nice thing to have in your back pocket, right? Quick little way to get an ego boost? Smooth over a bad day? I’m sure you’ve done that, right?”

“Me? Um, yeah,” Kyle responds, still a little unsure of where this is going.

Alex nods a bit. “Yeah. Sometimes, when things would get hard, I’d think about that a little. Like, oh, well, once you’re out, you’ll be able to mess around a little, then find someone, settle down.” Alex shrugs a shoulder. “I figured it could even be… easy, I dunno. Like if, after my discharge, I moved to a big city, made some connections. I was always pretty sure I could find someone.”

A tight little smile appears on his face. Kyle nearly recoils.

“And then I got blown up.” Alex leans forward a little. “Believe it or not, but people don’t tend to swipe right on the guy with one leg.”

“Alex –“ Kyle starts, but he’s cut off.

“No, Kyle,” Alex says. “I’ve tried, and… and it’s not the same, not the same as it was.” He sighs. “It’s just different, and _I’m _different, and I don’t like it.” He frowns. “Even… even if things get to a certain point, that… reveal always has to be managed, you know?” He shakes his head a bit. “And I still don’t know the best way to deal with it. Like, wait a few encounters? Bring it up right away?”

His eyes dart up, then, meet Kyle’s. “And, um, did you know that this is like, like a fetish for some people?” Kyle watches Alex’s throat move as he swallows. “Like… online, there are whole groups of people that actually get turned on by this. Like, amputations and shit.” Alex looks away. “And… and I don’t want that. Don’t want to be _just _that to someone, you know?” His gaze is far-off, now. “But I guess part of me’s afraid that’s where I’m going to end up.”

And then he’s staring at Kyle again. “Because things are different for me, Kyle, for a lot of reasons. Unlike you, I can’t just walk into a bar, in Roswell, New Mexico, and expect to go home with someone.” Kyle nods silently. “Because I’d want to go home with a man. Because everyone in this town knows that. Because I’m missing a leg. And because,” he falters, “because the one guy in this town I might want to go home with decided to date my best friend.”

Alex sighs again and turns the chair around. He’s quiet when he finally speaks. “So yeah, Kyle, I _do _need to get laid. But here? It’s not gonna happen.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came about when I posted a snippet of a WIP, and it was suggested that it could be part of a darkfic in which Michael and Alex are involved in a kinky scenario with each other in which they are trying to sneak up on each other as foreplay.
> 
> While that wasn't what the WIP was, it resulted in this very brief fic.

The hair at the nape of Alex’s neck stood on end, and he inhaled, sharply.

That was all the warning he got, all the advance notice his body gave him.

It wasn’t enough.

He smells him before he sees him, feels the cool metal exterior of his car pressing against his face, his cheek.

He didn’t move forward. Not of his own accord.

And this… force, behind him. It’s unyielding, but not harsh. All-encompassing. Inescapable… by human means, anyway.

“Let me go,” Alex says, low, voice a little raspy from the whiskey.

“And give up this view? Uh-uh, sweetheart.”

Michael’s voice is rough, too. Maybe from the whiskey, maybe from…

Alex swallows down his arousal. No. He’s supposed to be mad, pissed that Michael got to him. It was supposed to be the other way around, _Alex _was supposed to find Michael first. Catch him, catch him by surprise. Told him he would, and when he did, he better be ready to drop to his knees and –

Alex bites his lip. Fuck, they were twisted, with these games they were playing. He knows, he _knows _it’s fucked up, but how could it not be? Look how they grew up, look what had happened. Look how they were…

He shouldn’t want it this much. Not like this…

He pushes back again, against that unsettling force pinning him in place. “You’re cheating.”

Another laugh. “How in the hell is this cheating?” Alex hears Michael steps closer, behind him. His heart rate picks up. “I’m up against a fuckin’ Air Force Captain.” Alex draws a shaky breath as he feels a finger, one, trace the back of his neck. “Trained.” The finger’s on his spine now. “Skilled.” Lower, now, his low back, now his –

“_Fuck, _Guerin,” Alex groans.

“That was the deal, wasn’t it?” And now Alex feels Michael, not Michael’s power but the real, flesh and blood _Michael_ press against him from behind. There’s the brush of stubble now, against Alex’s neck, whiskey-warm breath on his ear.

“How bout I be _real _nice and give you a choice, Captain?”

Alex gasps a little as Michael jams two fingers in his mouth. “It’s dark, here, in this corner of the parking lot. You could get on your knees right here, against your car, and take me,” the fingers move deeper, “down this wet mouth of yours.”

“Fuck,” Alex mutters around Michael’s fingers. He feels Michael twitch against him.

“Or,” Michael says, low, and suddenly his fingers are gone. “You open this car door and I fuck you, hard, right in the backseat.” And Michael’s hand, with those wet fingers, it’s down the back of Alex’s pants now, searching, finding…

“God _damn _it, Guerin,” Alex says, low and harsh. Bites his lip.

Michael’s finger, fuck, it’s working in him. His breath hitches. “Not…not gonna do this in the middle of the fucking parking lot.”

“We will if you don’t choose,” Michael says, and the unusual resolve in his voice sends a shiver up Alex’s back.

“Car. Car. Open the fucking car,” Alex blurts, and Michael grins.

“Good choice.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is drunk and self-destructive. Alex has come to the Pony with a date. 
> 
> It gets bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally posted this on tumblr. 
> 
> Warnings for violence, sexual references, jealousy, alcohol misuse.

“God fucking damn it, Alex. Look at me.”

Alex pauses, just a moment, exhales hard. “_No_. You are so fucking drunk right now.”

Michael clicks his tongue, tries to smile. “Used to like that, though, right? Home on leave, big bottle of cheap whiskey. We’d be drunk off our asses, fucking each other stupid.”

Alex is just shaking his head. “No.” He’s running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, you’re so drunk. You… you don’t _want _this.”

“Or maybe this is what I really want,” Michael says, sliding up into Alex’s space. Alex smells the stink of him, flinches away.

“I’ll call Isobel,” he hisses. “Just, just don’t drive.”

Michael scoffs, watches Alex take his phone out, dial a number. Michael’s looking him up and down. “You fucking him?”

“Christ, Michael,” Alex mutters, glaring at his phone.

Michael takes a deep breath, spits in the sink. “You are.”

“Pick up, dammit,” Alex says to himself. “Hey, Isobel? Yeah, it’s Alex.”

“He fucked you yet? Eaten you out?”

Alex is looking murderous, shaking his head with lips pursed. “It’s bad… yeah. One of the worst I’ve seen.” He pauses. “No, not yet, thank god. Just… just running his mouth.” He meets Michael’s gaze. “To the wrong person. About the wrong shit.”

“I could tell him, you know. ‘Bout what you like.”

“I can’t, not tonight,” Alex is saying. “Normally I would, but I’m here.” He directs the next words at Michael. “With someone… Yeah.”

“Is it as good with him, out in the open?”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Or do you miss it being secret? Dirtier that way. You always liked it dirty.”

“Seriously, Isobel, thank you.” He hangs up the phone, then, glares at Michael. “You done?”

Michael chews his lip, raises his eyebrows. “Are you, Alex?”

Alex blows out a long, shuddery breath. “Tonight? Yeah, I am, Guerin.” And he looks so tired. “Isobel will be here in ten. Please try not to get kicked out before then.”

And Michael looks at him. Grabs the beer right out of his hand, guzzles it, and marches out of the bathroom. Alex scrambles to follow, just in time to see Michael whisper something in Wyatt Long’s ear.

That’s all it takes. Wyatt’s fist is connecting with Michael’s jaw, and Michael’s grinning, shoving at Wyatt, ducking to avoid another fist to the face.

“Alex!” Forrest yells from across the bar, concerned.

Alex raises his hands, is about to say he’s fine, when he hears his name again.

“Alex!” And it’s Guerin, this time, bloody and wrecked, white teeth already slick with blood. “Hey, Alex?” he calls again.

Then he fucking winks. 

“Made you look.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can also find me over on tumblr (aewriting).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While still under the rule of "Don't Ask Don't Tell," Alex gets blackmailed into conducting sexual espionage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS HERE!
> 
> Warnings for espionage, sexual situations, non-consensual sex/rape (as part of blackmail and espionage), homophobia, threatening situations.

“Manes?”

Alex groans.

“Manes!” comes the voice, louder now.

“What?”

“Ruiz wants to see you. Now.”

“Fuck,” Alex mutters. He hasn’t been back on base one hour. What could his CO possibly want?

It’s late, too, he thinks, checking the clock. As he stretches, he feels the soreness through his thighs, his jaw, his…

It’s not a bad sore. It reminds him. Reminds him of Michael.

Fuck, it had been less than 24 hours ago. Yes, less than 24 hours ago he’d been facedown, gripping the thin, scratchy bedspread and pleading with Michael to go harder, to make him feel it, to give him something to take with him…

He pulls a shirt on over his chest, over the hickey Michael had sucked right onto his collarbone, the one he’d urged him to leave.

The military has certainly taught him efficiency. He’s dressed and knocking on Ruiz’s door within ten minutes.

Ruiz opens the door, grim-faced, and Alex tenses.

“Come in, Manes. Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to an open chair opposite four others. There’s Ruiz himself. Ruiz’s superior, Bruno. A stern-looking man who’s apparently military police. An older guy in civvies.

Ruiz looks at Bruno, who nods. Ruiz looks… pained, almost. “Alex,” he says, and Alex knows if he’s using his first name, it’s going to be bad. “We received some information earlier today. Pictures,” he says, and he opens a slim folder.

Alex’s eyes widen. It’s him. And Michael. They’re standing outside their motel door, takeout bags looped around their wrists. Alex’s head is tilted up toward Michael, one hand in his curls and the other gripping his ass.

If a friend had taken a picture like this, it might be funny. Sweet.

No one’s smiling now.

“You…” Ruiz starts. “You know what this means, right?”

Alex doesn’t even say anything, just runs a hand over his face and sighs, so deeply. He… he’d tried to be careful, with Michael. This had to have been his father.

“I… I _just _got back from my first deployment. Iraq,” Alex says, still disbelieving.

Ruiz closes his eyes, briefly. “I know, Alex, I know. And you were a tremendous asset to us there. But…” he glances warily at Bruno, “but letter of the law says that we need to discharge you.”

“General under honorable conditions at best,” Bruno says sternly. “Maybe even dishonorable.”

“What?” Alex gasps. “How?”

“How?” Bruno says, incredulous. “You violated the terms of DADT, flaunting your relationship with your boyfriend out in the open like that.” He points at the pictures, shakes his head. “How could you have compromised yourself like this, Airman? Makes me question your goddamn judgment.”

Alex sucks in a breath. “My judgment,” he murmurs.

“Hope it was worth it, kid,” Bruno’s saying now. “Hard to get hired without an honorable discharge.” Alex’s brow is furrowed – he hasn’t quite caught up yet with the reality of the situation. He’s being discharged, dishonorably, just for daring to kiss Michael in a parking lot. One time. _Fuck._

“And this is it?” he asks, frustrated. “I don’t get to defend myself?” He shakes his head. “No, you know what? If I’ve already lost my honorable discharge, I’m just gonna say it. _Fuck _this. I’ve spent the last two years breaking codes and busting my ass, just to get kicked out for kissing another guy in public? This is _bullshit._”

“I agree,” says the guy in the civvies. “Which is why I’m here to provide an alternative.”

Alex tilts his head. “And what might that be?”

“My name is Long. CIA. A person of your… background could be very valuable to us.”

Alex’s eyes widen, then he starts to laugh, almost uncontrolled. “You… you’re asking me to be a fucking spy?” Long just stares at him. Alex is shaking his head. “Like, when you say my background,” Alex starts, unsure, “do you mean the codebreaking? Or, like… this?” he says, gesturing to the damn photos.

“Both,” Long says solemnly.

“It’s a good offer, Manes,” says Bruno. “You’d struggle otherwise, with a less than honorable discharge on your record.”

Ruiz is quiet when he speaks. “I… I was also told to inform you that, should you accept this new, offered position with the CIA, the Air Force will choose not to prosecute the other individual in these photos – Michael Guerin – for trespassing onto a federal facility.”

“What?”

“There is apparently surveillance footage of him sneaking onto an Air Force base just outside Roswell, New Mexico.”

Alex feels, suddenly, so removed from everything. From his body, the other men at the table… his whole life prior to this moment. “It sounds, it sounds like I don’t really have a choice.”

No one says anything.

***

He doesn’t even get to contact anyone before he’s being shipped off to Camp Peary. The older guy who was at the table, Long, explains that he has the right look, the right skill set for an upcoming mission.

He comes to realize he’s been selected for a very specific target. Older. Russian.

Rumor has it he likes young men.

The plan is for Alex to play dumb. And horny. Get into his good graces. His bed. Eventually his laptop. Then maybe his home compound in Moscow. The main servers.

He’s a bad dude. That… that’s not up for debate. Alex knows if he does this, goes through with this, that he’ll be saving lives, preventing atrocities.

But the thing is… it’s his own life he’s sacrificing. Ruining. His own dignity. And not fully of his own volition. His hand was forced, and here he is. He hates it. But… but the threat was there. Against Michael. And he doesn’t think that’s going away.

So he goes through with it. Learns Russian, enough to figure out what other people around him are saying, while still being a convincingly dumb, young American.

Everything moves faster than expected. The first time he finally meets Dmitry, in a club in Paris, he blows him right there in the VIP section, under the table. He must be convincing, because later that night he’s in Dmitry’s hotel room, getting fucked hard against the walls of the shower as hot water beats down on him.

He’s never felt dirtier.

Dmitry texts him. Filthy stuff. They see each other again. Alex spouts some nonsense about wanting to see the world, travel. Dmitry’s suddenly flying him to Moscow and gifting him with atrocious clothes that he loves to rip right off.

He… he never thought he’d be doing this. He was supposed to be making music, writing about love and loss and finding himself.

He’s half-dressed in a cold Moscow bathroom, hacking into Dmitry’s servers while trying to convince himself that he’s doing the right thing. Really.

He becomes Dmitry’s favorite. It’s a petty, cutthroat world, and he loathes having to deal with the other guys, jostle for time and attention. He… he does things. Things that repulse him, but he doesn’t let on. He’s good at concealing how he’s really feeling, reading the cues of the people around him. He survived 18 years in Jesse Manes’s house, after all.

Dmitry takes him to New York. A business trip. Really, he’s accepting payment from some foreign investors who are helping to fund illegal arms trading. Alex puts on the tight black shirt Dmitry likes and pretends to get too drunk. He’s using the bathroom when he sees… _him_.

“Thank god,” Michael says, looking him over.

“Guerin?”

Michael chuckles. “Not the reunion I’d hoped for, Alex, but here goes.” He heaves a deep breath. “I’m here to get you out of this.”

Alex looks at him incredulously. “What?”

“If you want. If you want to go, we go now, and we don’t look back. No one here will remember you. I can guarantee that.”

Alex feels cold. “Michael?”

“I know what your dad did, what he made you do.” Michael’s biting his lip a little. “I… I wish I could have gotten to you sooner. But it took time, figuring out what your dad knew. He… he wanted you gone, Alex. I don’t think he ever thought you’d walk away from this assignment alive.”

“Shit,” Alex breathes. “How do you know all this?”

Michael purses his lips. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fair enough.” A little shake of the head, then. “I’m an alien.”

Before Alex can call him on his bullshit, he feels himself pushed up against the wall, away from Michael.

Nothing touched him.

“Shit…” he hisses.

“Yeah. I can move stuff. With my mind. Max heals. Isobel – “

“Wait, Evans? Isobel Evans?”

“Yeah. She’s my sister. She and Max are aliens, too. They’re helping me. See, you’re not the only one who’s been busy. Undercover. Your Dad’s been all over our asses, pretty much since he caught us together in the toolshed. And Isobel, well… she can read minds. Influence people.” Michael’s lips quirk into a brief smile. “Hope you don’t mind, but your dad decided to take an honorable discharge and move to Montana.”

Alex’s head is swimming. “What the _fuck_?”

“And Dmitry, out here? He’s thinking that he’s grown a bit tired of you.”

Alex’s eyes widen, and he’s beginning to understand.

“You say the word, Alex, and you disappear tonight. _We _disappear tonight. We could go anywhere, and we’ll cover for you.” Michael frowns. “Let someone _else _do this, someone who chose it. Someone who wasn’t forced into it just because…” he falters. “Just because they loved the wrong person.”

And Alex grabs Michael, then, hands in his hair, and pulls. Pulls him right into his space, past his space, really, into his mouth and his breath and his whole being.

“Fuck, Michael,” he whines. “_Yes. _Fucking yes. Do it. Please do it.”

And Michael’s kissing him, raking his hands up his sides, under the shiny synthetic material of the tight black shirt Alex is wearing. “When we get where we’re going,” Michael mutters, “I’m burning this.”

“Good,” Alex mutters, “good. Burn it all down, Michael.”

“For you?” Michael says, holding Alex even tighter and sucking a bruise onto his neck. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Come say hello on tumblr if you like (aewriting).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets upset when Michael inquires about his recent date at the Pony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously posted on tumblr.

“What’re you doing, Alex?”

Michael watches Alex pause, push back a little from the computer. He doesn’t turn around. “What I’ve been doing for the last six hours, Guerin. Watching fucking – “ he stops. Takes a deep breath. “Going over some of the recovered video files from Caulfield.”

Torture tapes. That’s the shorthand, Michael knows. “Um, yeah. I figured. But that’s, that’s not what I…” He exhales, deeply. “Never mind.”

And that gets Alex to spin around in the chair, look at him. “What, Guerin?”

“It’s just… I saw you at the Pony last night.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Huh,” he says, as if he’s vaguely amused.

Enough time has passed, now, that Michael’s allowed back in. Enough time since he and Maria mended fences, and enough time since he hadn’t started a fight, hadn’t fucked a townie on the actual premises.

Apparently enough time had passed for Alex, too, because he was there, full force, last night. Tight jeans. Mussed hair. Leather jacket.

And a young-looking, vapid-seeming guy.

Alex is frowning now. “I didn’t see you.”

And Michael knows what he’s thinking. How did he miss him? Not in a good way, but in, like, a protective way. Maybe a, a PTSD way?

“I was there and gone, man. Not there long at all.”

Alex relaxes a bit at that. “Okay.”

As soon as Michael had seen the guy’s hand on Alex’s ass… Alex _allowing _a guy’s hand on his ass in the middle of the Pony… well, that’s when Michael had left. Fled to the truck. He’s trying. He really is. He promised Isobel. Liz. Maria. He’s doing better.

“We done, or…?” Alex is looking at him expectantly. Things between them are… fine. Like, they are cordial. Polite. They don’t hang out, outside of Project Shepherd stuff. Michael is pretty sure that any chance he had of being a friend to Alex, a _real _friend, was jettisoned when he started dating Maria.

He still wants to try.

And he _knows _he shouldn’t be bringing up Alex’s new… boyfriend? Hookup?

But here they are.

“I… I’ve never seen that guy at the Pony before.”

“Guess you’d know,” Alex fires back, then looks a bit sorry. Michael looks down. “I…” Alex clears his throat. “He’s just passing through. Visiting a cousin at the base.” Alex shrugs. “From Austin.”

“Mmm…” Michael murmurs.

Alex cocks his head. “What?”

Michael shakes his head. “Nothing, just…” He’s aware that he shouldn’t push this. Very aware. But he has to know. “That… that what you usually like?”

Alex is frowning. “What do you mean?”

Michael shrugs, tries to look like he doesn’t have a very personal stake in this. “With guys. Young like that? Pretty? I dunno…”

And Alex’s eyebrow quirks up. “Oh my god,” he mutters to himself. “That’s what this is.” He shakes his head.

“I, I shouldn’t have – “

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Alex says tightly. “You know, I thought we were doing a good job, Guerin. Keeping things business only.”

“Business only, yeah,” Michael repeats.

Alex is staring at Michael now, scrutinizing his face. “I can’t figure you out,” he murmurs, half to himself. “Like, what is this? You don’t want me, but no one else can have me bullshit?” He shakes his head.

Michael’s eyes narrow. “This guy _have _you, Alex?”

Alex leans back in the chair, work pretty well abandoned now. “He put up a Grndr profile. And seeing as I’m one of, like, five out guys in a 100-mile radius of the base, we matched. End of story.” Alex scoffs a little. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Guerin.”

“Beggars?” Michael retorts, incredulous. “You serious right now?”

“_Don’t.” _Alex says, holding up a hand. “Don’t even right now, Guerin.” He falters. “I… I’m making my peace with this.” He gestures to his leg. “It’s slow going. And if you were Liz, Maria, even, I’d let you talk me down. Tell me I’m still hot, tell me I’ll find someone, tell me that anyone really worth having won’t care.” He shakes his head. “But don’t you do it, cause we both know better.”

Michael’s eyes are wide. “It was _never _about your leg – “

And Alex isn’t looking at him now – can’t look at him. “You know, with you… I do believe that. I believe it when you say it. But that means it was about everything else. The rest of… of me, and I can’t…”

And Michael watches Alex just, like, shut himself down. Blow out a steady breath. School his features. Go rigid through the shoulders and sit up straight.

Look at him with a cool, blank face.

“I think I’m done for tonight, Guerin. Let me log off and I’ll be out of here. You staying or should I lock up?”

Michael’s never been able to do that. He, he wishes he could, sometimes. Just go blank, not broadcast his hurt and pain right on his goddamn face, for all to see.

He wishes he could do it. He wishes Alex _never _did it.

“You said you wanted to be friends.”

Alex’s face scrunches up, and he bites his lip. “That was before… god,” he mutters. “That was before you dated my goddamn best friend, Michael.” His jaw is clenched. “We, we are _colleagues _right now. Okay?”

And Michael has been so good, and tried so hard, but –

“And what’s bar guy?”

Alex’s eyes widen and he looks at Michael, angry and disbelieving. “Bar guy is a _random fuck_, Michael. I’m sure you know what that means, and why someone might seek that out, yeah?” Alex narrows his eyes. “Not every time can be fucking cosmic, right?”

Michael recoils, and Alex sees it. Looks immediately regretful. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, I…” Michael shakes his head. “This has all probably been a long time coming.”

“Shit,” Alex mutters. “It, it has, but… wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“No, it… it’s fine. You’re living your life, man. I shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have brought anything up in the first place.” Michael starts backing up, toward the exit. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go…”

“Wait,” Alex says. Michael freezes. “Why…” he breathes. “Why do you care?”

Michael can’t hold back the broken little laugh that escapes him. “Fuck, Alex, you know why.”

Alex closes his eyes, briefly. “I… we do this too much, Michael. Dance around shit, don’t say the words.” He looks at Michael, now. “You know how many times I’ve wondered if I’d just… said things a little differently, if it would have made a difference to you? To us and how all this went down?” There’s pain on his face, right there in the open. “Please, I’m… I’m asking you, Michael. Why do you care?”

And this isn’t the time for it, or the place. Michael knows that. He knows.

But…

But Alex is standing right here, right in front of him, open and vulnerable, as close to begging as he gets, begging for the _truth. _

And who is Michael to deny him that?

“I care because I _love _you, Alex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like, you can also say hello on tumblr (aewriting).


	9. Alex requests couples therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an argument, Alex suggests couples’ therapy.

Michael stumbles out of the bedroom bleary-eyed, out of sorts.

Trepidatious.

The tension eases, slightly, when he smells the coffee, freshly ground. 

He hasn’t left.

Not, not that he thinks he would, really, not that he has for years, now, but he can’t help it if that’s where his mind still goes.

Prosthetic’s not on, and he’s moving stiffly, with the crutches. Michael feels a pang of guilt, then anger. It’s Alex’s own damn fault, stubborn ass that he is. Wouldn’t sleep in the damn bed with Michael, and wouldn’t let Michael take the couch. So yeah, he’s probably feeling it this morning. Boo fucking hoo. Maybe next time he’ll just give in...

Michael should have never let him sleep on the couch. 

Should have, could have locked him in the damn bedroom.

Michael knows he can hear him - Alex is always hyperaware of shit like that. He probably heard him the instant his feet hit the floor. So it’s frustrating as hell that he’s made no move to turn toward Michael yet, that there’s been no acknowledgement of his presence.

“Hey,” Michael finally says. Loud. Probably obnoxious. He’s wearing only his boxer briefs (nice ones, an Alex purchase last Christmas), and god dammit he’s gonna use that, knows it’s always been one of the best weapons he’s had against Alex and his moods. He ambles over to the kitchen, overly loose. Casual. Leans back, hands on the counter, body on display.

Alex finally eyes him, swallows hard. “Here,” he says, placing a mug of hot black coffee next to Michael’s hand.

The corner of Michael’s mouth quirks up, almost sly. “Thanks.”

“Mmm hmm,” Alex says. He’s still not looking at Michael, not really.

Michael makes a show out of blowing on the coffee, sipping it. He sniffs the air, frowns. “What am I smelling?”

“We had some bananas going bad. I made banana bread. It’s in the oven now.”

Michael’s frown deepens. “How long you been up?”

A shrug. “A while.”

And Michael can’t help it. “Guess the couch wasn’t too comfortable, then?” He sees the slight shake of Alex’s head, the eye roll. Then the guilt comes back, full force. “Look, I’m sorry. About last night. I should have texted.”

Alex is still just looking down at his own coffee cup, face tense. 

Michael heaves a sigh and pushes himself off the counter. Approaches Alex from behind, finds him overly stiff when he finally touches him. “I’m sorry, okay? Real sorry.” Skims his hands down Alex’s arms, to his hips, his thighs. “Come to bed and I’ll show you just how sorry.”

And normally, that would do the trick. Alex would fix Michael with one of those dark, intense looks of his, or maybe roll his eyes,even - bite back a smile. The sex was always good like that, too - a little wild, dirty. An edge to it.

This morning, though, Alex exhales. Shrugs off Michael’s touch. “I...” he starts. Then, “No.” 

Michael’s eyes widen and he stumbles back, chastened. Scared, honestly. Because in all the time they’ve lived together, he doesn’t think Alex has ever turned him down, not quite like this.

He suddenly feels overexposed, shrinks back. Alex is wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt. Michael wishes he would have pulled something on before coming out of the bedroom.

And he’s pragmatic. Cause he’s had to be. Already thinking about next steps, the Airstream. Isobel’s got a condo now, a nice one - same developer that did Kyle’s, though Isobel’s is nicer, of course... there’s no way her Homeowners Association is gonna let her shady brother park his shitty Airstream in the damn parking lot. He’s saved up some money, though, in these past few years, living with Alex. He’ll, he’ll have more options now than he did at 28, at 17.

He looks at Alex warily, watches him sit down heavily at their little kitchen table. He hangs his head, grips his coffee cup. “Are... are we fooling ourselves?”

“What?” Michael folds his arms in front of himself, like a barrier.

Alex isn’t looking him in the eye. “I just... All those years, when things didn’t work with us, it was so easy to blame all the other shit. The big, external things.”

And shit... this, this might really be it, Michael thinks. He, he’s been waiting for this - like, it was always kind of there in the back of his mind, but it... it maybe, really being here is something different. He tracks Alex’s every expression, every movement with wide-eyed alarm.

“My dad. DADT. Just, like, the military in general. You being,” he exhales shakily, “being an alien. Us seeing other people. And everything with Caulfield, Project Shepherd.”

Alex purses his lips. “But... but it’s just us now. And, and what if that’s the common denominator? Like, what if we’re the problem?” He’s shaking his head, looking stricken. “Dad’s dead, Project Shepherd’s shuttered...”

Michael leans his head back, sighs deeply.“What do you want, Alex? Just, what is this about?” Their eyes finally meet, briefly. “This is more than me forgetting to text.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Alex’s brow is furrowed. “It’s... it’s all the texts, that you’ve forgotten.” Michael open his mouth to protest, but Alex barrels forward. “And it’s all the times I’ve gotten mad about them. It’s the way we fight about stupid shit, like keeping the cabin clean, or what we should do on the weekends.” He bites his lip. “It’s all the times one of us has slept on the couch. All the times I’ve thought you were out with someone else. Someone easier, less complicated. All the times you’ve thought I was leaving.”

He’s rubbing at his neck. “Like, do we really think we can do this?”

Michael’s whole body feels tight, coiled. “Do you?”

Alex’s shoulders slump. “I... I don’t know, honestly.”

“Fuck,” Michael mutters, looking away.

“And that’s not to do with you.”

“Bullshit it’s not,” Michael grits out. “Don’t give me this ‘it’s not you it’s me’ bullshit.” He shakes his head. “Not with me.”

“Fine,” Alex says. “But it’s both of us. Like, we’ve been through so much shit, Michael. So much. And the way we grew up...” Alex’s eyes narrow. “You know I don’t know a single couple I’d want to be like? Not a single one where I’m like, wow, that’s a great relationship. Maybe I can have that someday.” He gives a disbelieving little laugh. “Not one! And sure as hell not, not a queer one. Or...” There’s another nearly hysterical little laugh. “Or an interspecies one, for fuck’s sake.”

Michael licks his lips. He’s, he’s grasping for ways to talk Alex down. “Is this about the wedding? Like, second thoughts? Are you, are you not ready?” Michael swallows. “Like, if you need time, I’ll give you time.”

Alex is just staring at him, and Michael starts ticking through the boxes of what else Alex could possibly need, want right now. “Is it, is it the idea of being with, with just me?” And god, he hates what he’s about to say, but he says it. “Cause, cause fuck, Alex, I love you. God knows I, I had years to fuck around. And I know you didn’t get that like I did, with the military and your dad and shit, so if you want that -“

“What the actual fuck, Michael?”

“I, I’m just saying -“

“Have you heard anything I’ve just said?”

And now Michael’s hurt. Offended. “Of course I have.”

“And your first thought was, what, maybe he wants to open this up?” Alex is looking at him, incredulous. “Like, do you?”

“No!” Michael exclaims. “I just, I love you Alex. I, I want you however I can have you.”

“And that’s part of the problem!” Alex says, desperate. “You’re so... so damn self-sacrificing sometimes. And let me just put it out there, for the damn record, you have me. You’ve fucking had me since I was 17, and, and I think I have you, but is that enough?” Alex is hunched over the table now. “Like, I want this to be good for us. Healthy. But, but how can we even know what that looks like?” He shakes his head at Michael. “Like, healthy is not volunteering to have a god damn open relationship at the first sign of trouble. Especially when you don’t even want one, my god.” He blows out a breath. Looks down. At his leg. “And it’s also not, not being a stubborn bastard and ignoring your own health just to stick it to your boyfriend and sleep on the couch.” He curses low, under his breath. “We’re both the problem, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I...” Michael starts, then stops. Buffy chooses this instant to trot up to him, curl herself against his bare legs, and fuck, he can’t, can’t imagine leaving Alex, leaving her...

“I left a voicemail for Dr. Ling this morning. Told her I want to start up regular sessions again,” Alex says quietly. “And I think, well, it was her suggestion, actually, when I was seeing her before. She said that maybe we should consider couple’s therapy.”

Michael scoffs, at that. Rolls his eyes.

Alex sees, and his jaw tightens. “You know,” he starts. “ I think it’s more than a little - “ he breathes, regroups. “I think it’s telling that you’d sooner suggest that we fuck other people than actually talk to someone about this.”

And fuck if he doesn’t have a point, there.

The truth of it rattles Michael, and he finally sits down across from Alex. Sets the coffee mug on the table, a little too rough. “I don’t want to have to go in there and lie.”

Alex purses his lips. “I... I get that. I know you hate that. But, with this, I think we could still get something out of it. I mean, I have to lie. To Dr. Ling. About you.” He sees Michael’s face. “And I know that’s not the same. It’s definitely not. But, but I think it could help us, Michael. I mean, even if we never even touch the alien stuff, there’s so much else.” He pauses. “And maybe, maybe we could learn. Learn to really talk to each other. So that when we did need to talk, about anything - even the alien stuff, especially the alien stuff - we could.”

And Michael looks at him, really looks. He’s just this side of desperate. Almost pleading, but... but there’s still hope. And the hope does it. Because he wasn’t lying when he said he’d do anything for Alex, and he knows it says something really fucking strange about him that, even after all these years, he’d find it easier to, to take a goddamn hammer for him than to open up like this, in this way. But at his core, he knows he’s right.

He breathes deep and looks right at Alex. “If it’ll keep you off this couch,” he says, pointedly, “then yeah, I’ll go put in my time on a different one.”

And Alex, Alex looks so relieved. Reaches across the table and grasps Michael’s hand with his own, still warm from gripping his coffee mug. “Thank you.”

Michael leans forward, then - cradles Alex’s face with his other hand, and gives him a kiss. A real one. Not urgent. Just... genuine.

And Alex smiles, pulls away and looks down, almost shy.

“What?” Michael asks.

“I, I just...” Alex finally looks at him, quirks an eyebrow. “I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this, this morning, told myself that we were gonna talk, but, well... want to spend a little time on, on our couch, first?”

The invitation is clear, and now it’s Michael’s turn to be relieved.

“Yes.”


	10. Michael engages in sex work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Michael encounters an old acquaintance at Noah's funeral, he resumes his old "arrangement" with her. He uses it as ammunition to push Alex away even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an awfully angsty little story that hit me after watching episode 2x01. Based in part on some tumblr discussions and head canons. 
> 
> Michael is not in a good place in this, and it shows, especially in his interaction with Alex (just a warning). 
> 
> This chapter also features mentions of sex work.

“Michael?”

He’s drunk. He’s so drunk – on alcohol, acetone. He makes himself straighten up, really look at her.

Diana? Dana? No. “Deena, hi.” He tries to stay steady, smile. No, don’t smile… it’s a funeral, after all. “Been a while.”

“Sure has.” She eyes him, up and down. Not subtle. “You look good.”

He doesn’t. He knows that. He’s… he’s a fucking mess right now. But Deena was always more interested in touching than looking.

“I didn’t realize you knew Noah Bracken,” she says, slight frown on her face.

“Yep,” he says tightly. “Him _and _Isobel.”

He sees how it lands – the way Deena’s eyebrows raise, the way she quickly covers up a half-smirk. “I _see,_” she says, and Michael has to stop an eyeroll. Doesn’t correct her, though, doesn’t explain. It’s been a long time since he’s given a damn about his bad reputation, after all.

Deena’s eyes, still wide, flick to Isobel, in that skintight black dress of hers. “Well,” she says, clearing her throat, her gaze sliding over Michael again. “My husband’s on business in Canada right now.”

Oh Jesus.

“And you were always so… handy. Might have a few jobs for you.”

And now it’s Michael’s turn to look her over. Deena runs with the Ann Evans brunch crew. Red hair, good figure – clearly takes care of herself. If she’s had work, it’s subtle. Discreet. She really hasn’t changed that much since he last saw her, years ago…

First time had been an accident. It was that awful winter right after graduation, before he’d started out at Foster’s Ranch. Before the Airstream. And he honestly didn’t mean for it to happen, but he’d been…

He’d been desperate. He can see that now.

He’d tried to go about things honestly, at first. Tried. He was cold, hungry, and he wasn’t about to try to hit Isobel and Max up again, lost as they were in their own problems. So after one particularly bad storm, he scraped together all his money, went to the hardware store, and bought a shovel. Drove to one of the nice neighborhoods. Started going door to door.

Most people didn’t answer. It was the middle of the day, so they were probably at work, and no doubt some people just ignored him. Like, he probably looked shady. But he got a couple bites. At least the physical activity kept him warm, and he made a few bucks.

That’s how it had started, with Deena. She looked him over. Asked him his age. Seemed pleased when he’d said 19. “You look older,” she commented. He got to work on her driveway and sidewalk. Saw her peeking through the curtains. Looking at him. He assumed that she was checking in on his work, his progress.

He was been wrong.

He finished up and knocked on the door. Deena smiled at him. “You poor thing,” she cooed, looking him over. “Looks so cold out there. Want something warm to drink?”

And Michael _was _cold. Sore and tired. And here was this lady actually, actually fucking treating him nicely? “Sure,” he said, using the big smile.

She smiled back. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?”

Oh god, hot chocolate sounded fucking awesome. That’s exactly what he ended up telling her, too, before realizing he’d said “fuck,” but she just laughed. Busied herself in the kitchen with the milk, the mix. “Take off your coat, stay a while.”

_Nice_, was Michael’s first thought. _What does she want_, was his second.

She made small talk, at first. Then started rubbing his shoulders. And that, that’s when Michael realized what was going on. And… and it wasn’t like it was off-putting. No. Deena was fucking hot. Her house was warm. He bet she’d let him shower, even.

One thing led to another. And when it was over, after he’d showered (with her), she gave him a lingering kiss and pressed a very generous “tip” into his hand.

“There’s a little extra there. For you,” she said with a wink. “You did such a good job out there,” she added. “You better come back next time it snows.”

So he did.

And a few times for raking leaves, the next fall.

Then another winter.

She wasn’t… wasn’t the only one who’d ever paid him, but she was... the _least_ accidental. After that first time, anyway. And it’s not like he ever _asked _her to. She, she always volunteered it. At the end. Part of his tip. He didn’t, didn’t expect it, necessarily. Wouldn’t have pressed it, if she hadn’t kept it up. But it also wasn't like he was gonna turn it down, either. Right? Like, who would?

And really, wasn’t everything a goddamn transaction, anyway? People weren’t just nice to a kid like Michael, and they weren’t nice to an adult like him, either. They had an agenda.

Everybody… everybody has a fucking agenda.

Michael lets his gaze linger on Deena again, standing in front of him in her flattering, stylish black dress. Probably cost more than the monthly payment on his Airstream. “You still over on Hollybrook?”

Deena makes a face. “No, no… I’ve upgraded. Over in Montebello Heights now.”

Michael nods. “How long’s your husband in Canada?”

She bites her lip a little. “Weeks.”

Fuck it. Why not? “Then I’m sure you could use a man around the house. Take care of some things.”

She grins.

***

“I don’t want to hear a damn word about, about Project Shepherd. Or Caulfield, or my…” He shakes his head. “None of it, okay, Manes? I _told _you that.”

Alex sighs. “You did. Yeah, you did. Sorry.” He glances around the makeshift lab, looks quickly away from Max’s naked form, suspended in the pod. “I’ll just, just update Liz and Kyle with it.” He goes to leave. Stops. “How… how long you been in here?”

Michael shrugs. “Long enough.”

“You should get something to eat. Crashdown?”

Michael fixes him with a level gaze. He _does_ need to eat. “Sure, Manes.”

They drive separately, thank god. Michael wishes they could eat separately, too, but he’s not that big of an asshole. Today, anyway.

Liz is working, and she raises an eyebrow at Michael, which he returns with a shrug. They get settled in a booth. Liz isn’t the one that waits on them. Michael gets his usual, a burger. Watches as Alex gets the enchiladas, eats them with gusto. Times like this, Michael can almost forget. Forget that he wants the distance, the end to this damnable push-pull they’ve been doing for years.

“Arturo’s are the best,” Alex is saying.

“If you say so,” Michael says shortly, and he sees Alex’s face fall, just a little. Part of him’s glad to still have that power. Part of him hates it.

Their server brings the bill, and Michael grabs for it. Alex frowns.

“Guerin,” he says, a warning in his tone.

“What?” Michael grits out. “Don’t need your charity, Manes.”

Alex closes his eyes, briefly. “I… I know that. This wasn’t…” He shakes his head a little. “Wasn’t charity.”

“Then you won’t mind me paying.”

But Alex, he just can’t leave it alone. “Isobel, she says that you haven’t been taking as much work, at Sanders’.”

“Since when is Isobel telling you about my – “

“And, and I see the way you are,” Alex barrels on. “You, you don’t seem good, Michael.”

And the audacity, the sheer nerve of Alex right now, Michael thinks. Cause when, when in their whole damn history has he _ever _seemed good? And why can’t Alex just see, just fucking listen and leave Michael the fuck alone? If he hasn’t realized after all these years just how fucked the two of them are, together, what’s it gonna take?

And then he has an idea.

He squares his shoulders, makes a show of pulling out his wallet, thumbing through the bills. “Don’t need to worry about me, Alex. I’ve picked up some work.” He gives a tight little smile. “Night shifts.”

Alex looks at him, surprised. “Oh,” he says, attention drawn to the money Michael is casually flashing.

“Yeah,” Michael says, drawing out the word. He can tell Alex is torn between asking more and just letting it be. So Michael pushes. Again. “An old employer. She’s generous.”

And that does it. “What, what are you doing, exactly?” Alex says, brow starting to furrow.

Michael just shrugs, gives him a smirk. “Something I’m good at. According to you, at least. And others.”

And at that, Alex’s face goes slack. “Oh my god.”

Michael shrugs. “Gonna do it anyway, might as well get paid.”

Alex’s eyes are darting around the Crashdown. He leans forward. There’s anger now, not just the shock. “Holy _shit_, Michael.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but just curses instead. “God _damn _it.”

Michael scoffs a little. “Well look at you, high and mighty. All offended. Not like you’ve never done it.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “What?” His mouth is open. “I’ve _never, _never –“

Michael laughs, a harsh, biting sound. “You’ve done it with _me,_ Alex.”

“That’s bullshit – “

“Gave me a place to stay and a guitar. Then tried to kiss me.”

Alex’s mouth is pinched, tight. “No. No. Do not do this. That is _not _what that was – “

“Wasn’t it?” Michael asks, scrunching up his face in faux confusion. “Cause I don’t think you would’ve been so inviting if you hadn’t wanted my dick.”

“Stop it,” Alex hisses.

“Not like I didn’t want yours, too.” Michael shrugs. “Everything has a price, right?”

Alex looks sick. “Guerin, please. You don’t have to – “

“Course I don’t. Not now. Didn’t always have that luxury, though,” he says, voice hard. He takes out a few bills, slaps them on the table showily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, _Captain_.”

He’s out the door fast, and he knows he shouldn’t turn back, shouldn’t try to catch a glimpse of Alex through the window, but he can’t help it. He’s still sitting, stunned-looking, in the booth.

Michael swallows hard. Turns and walks away. Maybe this time, it’ll stick.


	11. Malex in space - dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: “something dark and set in space.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include species trafficking, implied sexual work, captivity.

“No.”

“Mike, come on.”

“The answer’s no. Absolutely not.”

Noah looks at him skeptically. “You know how much we could make on just one run?”

Michael slams his wrench down, exasperated. “What fucking part of ‘no’ do you not get?”

Noah scoffs a little. “This is happening, Mike, whether you like it or not. Enos already got us in.”

Michael’s shaking his head. “How do you think Isobel’s gonna react to this?”

Noah glares at Michael. “Isobel isn’t going to find out about this.” Michael quirks an eyebrow at him, tries not to flinch when Noah leans in. “If you talk about this, then I tell her and Max about you.” Michael’s mouth twitches. “How we really met. Where I really found you.”

Fuck. Michael closes his eyes. It would kill Isobel and Max. Kill them to find out what he was really doing while they were recovering from Gonchan Flu in Sector 8 all those years ago. “We had a fucking deal, Noah.”

“We need the fucking money, Michael,” Noah hisses. “So unless you’re planning todust off your old tricks and make us some extra cash down by the hangar tonight, you will shut your fucking mouth and let me do this. Understood?”

Michael swallows hard. “When we get back,” he says, his tone measured, “we are done. This is a new low even for you, Noah. If you weren’t my sister’s husband I’d leave you right now, but, for whatever reason, she loves you.” He narrows his eyes. “She’d hate this. You know she would.”

“Which is why we won’t tell her.”

Michael shakes his head, looks away. “Let’s get this over with.”

***

It’s the biggest auction house Michael’s ever seen. It, it reminds him of stockyards, back on Earth - loud, too warm, air thick with the stink of sweat. Bodies.

Noah’s looking in each stall, perusing the offerings. Michael... Michael can’t. He just can’t. He remembers what it’s like to feel like a thing. Something to be bought and sold. Used.

This planet’s such a shithole. Really, the only reason anyone even comes here is for this, the auction house. Quelnin is just outside of the jurisdiction of the United Federation of Galaxies, so what it lacks in Federation support, it makes up with black market profits.

The auction house gets worse the farther in they get. It’s all plants and trinkets on the perimeter, but the inner stalls are where they keep the sentient beings. It’s so illegal, so completely wrong... and Michael is alarmed to see how at ease Noah appears.

“You’ve done this before,” Michael says with sudden realization. “Species trafficking.”

Noah gives him a half-smile. “Your sister likes nice things.”

Michael grabs his sleeve. “No. Don’t you fucking do that. Don’t you put this on her.”

Noah rounds on him. “You gonna fucking lecture me, Michael? I didn’t see you asking too many questions when I pulled your ass out of Sector 8.”

Michael releases Noah with a shove. “Damn you.” He glances around, uneasy. “Can’t, can’t we just pick up some Grelnars and call it a day?” Noah scoffs. “Seriously, man. They’re trendy now. People are keeping them as fucking pets over in Sector -“

“Holy shit.”

Noah’s stopped dead in his tracks. “Mike, are you seeing this?” He mutters, voice low.

Michael follows his eyeline... and freezes.

“It’s a human, has to be,” Noah says. “What the fuck is a human doing outside of Federation territory?” His eyes narrow. “He’s young. Must’ve put up a fight, but he looks healthy.”

The man’s naked. Beat... beat to hell. 

Noah’s leaning in toward the cage where the human is being kept. “Good muscle tone,” he’s muttering, as if this isn’t a fucking person. “Could probably get a decent price for him on Xanar 12. They always need labor for the mines.” 

Enos is nodding. “That’s true. I’d front you the money for transport costs, then you’d get a cut of the final sale profits. Say, ten percent?”

“You out of your fucking mind? Maybe if Xanar 12 was in Federation airspace, but we’re talking about Sector 6. That’s worth 20% at least...” 

Michael, Michael can’t be seeing this. It can’t be him. How the fuck is he here?

“Now hold on, Noah,” Enos is saying, head cocked. “Picture him cleaned up. Haircut. Shave. He’s not bad-looking, right?”

The man’s head is down, his gaze intentionally averted from the potential buyers around him. Michael approaches the cage, wills the man to look at him.

“He’s not bad,” Noah’s agreeing. “Let’s see his teeth,” he calls out. Turns to Enos. “If you’re considering selling him to one of the pleasure centers on Velar, we better make sure he still has his teeth. Replacing human teeth isn’t cheap.”

“Don’t I know it,” Enos mutters.

“Open up,” one of the traders is saying to the man. And for a moment, it looks like he’s going to comply. He’s lifting his head, opening his mouth and - 

Spitting right at the trader. 

“Fuck off,” he manages to say before being shocked with an electric prod.

Noah frowns. “Maybe the mines would be better.”

The man’s on the floor of the cage, wheezing, and that’s when Michael sees it. Left shoulder blade. A small letter M. 

They’d been 18. In love. Before it all went to shit.

Michael’s never been shy about his own tattoo, but he’s never been truthful about it, either. A for Antar, he usually says. 

“Alex,” he breathes, and in that moment, the man lifts his head, meets his eyes.

“Michael?” he whispers, shocked.

Michael nods. Straightens. Whirls around to face Noah and Enos.

“We‘ll take him.”


	12. Alex's Kidnapping ("You keep on saying the past is not even past")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex are trapped together in the wake of Alex's kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings in this one are for mentions of past traumas, including war and loss of limb. Brief mention of Michael's relationship with Maria.

They’re bound, too tightly, back to back on the floor in the bare room. Michael’s powers are still offline.

And Alex...

Alex seems so tired.

“Why would you do this, Michael?”

“Do what?”

Alex scoffs. “Come after me. Get in, in bed with my fucking father and build his bomb.”

Michael blows out a breath. “Now _that’s_ an interesting choice of words. You know - “

“Stop.” He feels Alex shake his head. “We, this is bad, Michael. Don’t, don’t fucking joke. Don’t deflect. Please. Not now.”

Michael sags against the restraints. Goes quiet. “They took you, Alex. They took you and... and I’d do anything to get you back.”

Two deep breaths. Three. “Why?”

Michael looks skyward, feels how the motion rubs the backs of their heads together. He tries not to lean into the contact. “Been ten years, Alex. I think it’s obvious.”

The muscles of Alex’s back go tense. “No, Michael. It’s not. Not obvious.”

This is it, and... and why fucking not? They might be physically bound together, at the moment, but they’ve been every bit as linked since a teenage Alex saw a need in Michael that others hadn’t seen, or had flat out ignored, and he’d actually _done_ something about it.

“Love you, Alex,” he whispers, and Alex freezes. “I’ve loved you since you gave me a place to stay back in school. Loved you through war, through... everything. Always loved you. All those years.” He swallows. “Still do.”

Alex is motionless, rigid. Says nothing.

And Michael’s never been able to tolerate silence. He doesn’t know why. Was, was it fifty years in a pod, nothing to hear but the slow beating of his own heart?

“We were kids and I wanted to love you, wanted to... to fucking _treasure_ you. That’s all I wanted in this whole damn world.”

And that must affect Alex in some way, because Michael feels how he slumps against him. Then his head starts shaking again, slowly. “That seventeen year old you fell in love with?” Alex asks. “I’m not him, not anymore. Tried to tell you that, after the reunion. I’ve... I’ve drifted too much since then.”

“We’ve both fucking drifted, Alex. And yet here we are.” He makes a show of pulling at their bonds. “Can’t seem to ever really pull apart, you know?”

“God, I tried, Michael,” Alex gasps. “Tried to do it. To pull apart, to protect you. And me. But like you said,” he adds wryly, “here we are.” He pauses. “If I’d known then, known that no matter what I did, it would end up back here, with you...”

They’re quiet for a long moment. Michael wants to extend his fingers, reach for Alex’s. “I don’t know what kind of time we have left, Alex. What that time’s gonna look like. You think...” he pauses, hating how uncertain he sounds. “You think there’s any chance we can be forgiven?”

“What?” Alex’s voice is raw. Sharp.

Michael swallows thickly. “For, for the drift? The ways we’ve changed? The ways life _made_ us change? There any coming back from that?”

And Alex is the one who reaches out, then. Reaches his fingers for Michael’s - one hand first, then the other - rougher than Michael remembers, gripping hard.

He feels him breathing, ragged and uneven. Can’t see his face, but can imagine it, the emotion that must be there. “I have to believe there is, Michael. Maybe not for me, but... but for you? Yeah. I have to at least believe in it.”

“Why?” Michael asks, desperate for the answer, his grip on Alex’s hands not easing, never easing.

“I love you,” Alex says, simple and easy, like it hasn’t taken him ten damn years to say.

And Michael’s done pretending, so done. He, he’s always hated secrets. Lies. “Wish we’d have been able to live it. Live our love.” He feels the way Alex’s grip falters just a little. “If, if we do get out of this...”

Alex heaves a tired sigh. “What about Maria?”

His words hang there. “Maria...” Michael repeats, like he’s testing out the word. “Maria,” he says again, genuinely sad. “I care about her, Alex. So much. She, she gave me something I was looking for, for so long. The chance to be - “

“Good for someone,” Alex says, bitter. “I remember.”

“But she’s not you,” he admits, so soft. Ashamed, maybe, at himself. For putting her in the middle of this, even though he knows in his heart how much he wanted it, how hard he tried. For them all. “No one’s you, or ever could be. I know that now.” Michael swallows. “You’d have thought I would have learned, right? After the shed? After war? After you lost your fucking leg, after Caulfield...” He’s crying now. “You’d think I’d have fucking learned.” He tries to get his reaction under control, blink away the tears. “We might die here, Alex. Your dad might, might finish what he started all those years ago. So I’m not gonna lie anymore. Not to anyone, not even myself. I love you. And if we do get out of this, I want to be with you. Feels bigger than anything.”

Alex strokes Michael’s hand with his thumb, leans into his back. “Don’t know how much of me is really left, Michael. But what’s still here, it’s yours. Always will be.”


	13. Michael and Max go out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Liz leaves Roswell, Michael and Isobel try to take Max out, cheer him up.
> 
> It doesn't work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna pretend the whole "Mr. Jones" thing isn't in play here, ha. Otherwise, this is canon compliant through the end of season 2, and greatly inspired by some of ninhursag's (ninswhimsy on tumblr) writings about soulmates, and the implications of that (good AND bad).

It was meant to be fun.

Max had been miserable for months, doing the bare minimum at the Pony, sleeping too late, moping. Isobel had been the one to suggest Planet 7.

“No,” Michael had said quickly. He’d been doing well, avoiding Alex. Avoiding Alex with Forrest, specifically. No, no malice, no ill intent, nothing like that. He just… just didn’t want to see it. He keeps hoping it will run its course… but they seem to still be going strong. He sees them sometimes – it’s a small town, and his attention’s drawn to Alex in a way he can’t explain. Magnetic. Cosmic. All of that.

He sees them in the grocery store, late one night. Sees them in the window booth at the Crashdown. Having breakfast. On a weekend. He tries not to imagine what they were doing before breakfast. Sees them crossing the street, casually holding hands in the crosswalk. And once, a few weeks back, there they were, leaving Planet 7. Making out. 

So no, he doesn’t want to go to Planet 7.

“Let’s take a drive. Up to Albuquerque. One of the bars up there. See some new sights, meet some new people.”

Isobel raises an eyebrow. “That could be fun.” Her gaze slides to Max. “You in?”

Max just shrugs. “Whatever.”

***

Max is drinking too much tonight. This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before. Twice. Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah. He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself. What he likes. What he wants, outside of Alex. Um, and hopefully, eventually, _with_ Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun. Light. Uncomplicated. Pretty much everything the rest of his life _isn’t _right now.

No one’s approaching them. He sees some flares of interest – directed at him _and _Max, but it’s usually short-lived, halted when the other person seems to notice Max’s whole… everything.

Isobel, though… Michael smiles a little at the sight of her, blissed out, leaning up against a strong-looking brunette. She’s gonna get some tonight, Michael can tell. Good for her.

Max, though…

He’s trying to get up, suddenly, head to the bar.

“Hey,” Michael says sharply, snaking out an arm and snagging Max around the elbow. “Think… think you’ve had enough.”

Max scoffs a little. “That’s my line.”

It actually relaxes something in Michael. “Yeah, yeah it is. Not tonight though.”

“Not lately,” Max adds. 

“No,” Michael agrees. He doesn’t go to the Pony very much these days. Just, just hurts still. He tried, with Maria. He really did. Hurts that it wasn’t enough. “If you weren’t so drunk right now,” he says, trying to change the subject, “I’d be trying to get you laid.”

Max snorts a bit, sits back down in his chair with too much force. It creaks, makes a too-loud noise. Michael’s ready with the TK, if needed.

The chair holds, and Michael slumps back in his own seat, sips his beer. Stops when he sees Max just… just staring at him.

“What?”

Max’s eyes are wide as he leans in. “Has it _ever _worked, for you?”

Michael frowns. “Has, has what worked?”

Max laughs a little. “This,” he says, gesturing vaguely around the bar. “Drinking, fucking around?”

“You’re drunk, Max,” Michael says, voice a little hard. 

Max’s eyes go even wider. “I’m, I’m serious, Michael. I’m not trying to, like, call you out.”

“Aren’t you?” Michael asks. “Seem to remember plenty of call outs from you, through the years. Usually with a badge and a gun, too.”

“Fuck,” Max mutters, running a hand through his hand. “I… that was shitty of me. I was _worried_, Michael.”

Fuck. He knows they shouldn’t get into this now, here. It’s public, Max is wasted, but… Michael blows out a breath. “So you fucking _talk _to me. You don’t… don’t just keep hauling my ass back to the drunk tank in cuffs.”

Max’s jaw tightens. “That’s fair. There were times I was hoping that if there were some actual, I dunno, teeth involved? Consequences? That maybe you’d finally stop. But there were other times that,” he shakes his head. “Dammit, Michael. You were good at pissing people off, you know? And, and I know what you can do. Of course I fucking do. There were times that you, you _scared _me, Michael. You didn’t fight back. It’s like you, you wanted to just, just take a beating, get your ass handed to you.” He sighs. “Especially when Alex was overseas.”

Michael freezes.

Max shrugs. “Am I wrong?”

Michael looks down quickly, sips his beer. 

“I’m not wrong,” Max asserts. “Which is how I _know_ you know. What it’s like. When they leave.”

Michael can’t deal with this. Shakes his head and tries to will Max to shut up.

Doesn’t work.

Max is looking at Isobel and the woman she’s with. “I don’t think it’s happened yet, with Iz. She’d know. She’d feel it the way we do.” Michael still hasn’t said anything, and Max finally seems to notice. “You had to have known this, right?” Max’s hands are out in front of him, upturned. “Me and Liz, you and Alex. And god, you two, like…” Max brings his hands together in a vague sort of way. Michael can’t believe he’s seeing this. “Back in high school, right? God… I don’t know how you did it. Being with Liz, actually having _been _with her, _feeling_ her – “

“Max,” Michael says sharply, really not wanting to hear the intimate details.

“It’s so much worse now. Like, I always knew it was hopeless, but it’s worse now.” Max is just staring at Michael, half incredulous. “Michael… you _do _feel it, right? With Alex?”

“Don’t go there, Max,” Michael warns. 

“The connection? The, the,” he pauses, “_certainty_ that you’re meant to be together? That it’s bigger than just the two of you?” Max looks at Michael, searching for something, then pulls back. Looks worried. “Michael,” he says, edge of fear toward his voice. “Please tell me you’ve felt that, too. I… all these years, I’ve just assumed it’s an, an _us _thing.” He pauses. “Is, is it not? Like, it’s not just me, is it?”

Michael bites his lip, grips his glass tighter. “It’s not just you,” he says, finally. It’s one thing to think it. Think it for years, late at night on his own, in stolen moments with Alex, while… while he’s in someone else’s bed. It’s another thing to discuss it, out in the open, with someone else that might actually verify the reality of it.

Some of the tension leaves Max as he blows out a breath. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Seriously, thank you. I know we don’t… don’t talk about this. All those years, should’ve known you were hurting like I was. But you never wanted to talk about it, never wanted us to know. And after everything that happened…” Max hangs his head. “I tried, you know? With Jenna. Like, I wanted to feel things for her. I think you tried too, with – “

“Max,” Michael says, a warning.

Max gives him a look, shakes his head a bit. “I _know _you tried with her. And remember,” he says, voice softer now, “I saw the two of you together. In Texas.” He raises an eyebrow. “I know you two could have had something. If it wasn’t for Al – “

“Max!” Michael interrupts, raising his voice. Cutting him off before he can finish, before he can make Michael acknowledge the fear… the fear and the hope he’s had all these years.

Max’s eyebrows are raised. “Really? We’re really not gonna talk about him?”

“Do _you _want to sit around and talk about Liz?” Michael asks.

Max sniffs a bit. Looks around. “Fine,” he says, voice tight. “Fine,” he repeats. Swigs his whiskey. Winces. “What do you want me to do, Michael? Get _laid?_” he asks, throwing Michael’s earlier words back at him. “Go have… have that guy blow me in the bathroom?”

Michael’s eyes widen and he whips around to see a younger guy eyeing Max. Dark hair, slight build. “Whoa, Max, for real?”

Max shrugs. “That surprise you?”

Michael laughs a little. “Well, _yeah_. Guess it does.”

Max’s mouth twists a little. “Don’t know how to explain it.” He looks at Michael, then, a little sharper, a littler more with it. “But… but I’m thinking maybe I don’t have to explain it to you. How it’s… how it’s Liz, and everyone else.” He grimaces a little. “Well, not _everyone_ else, obviously, but also, like, more people than you’d think. If you catch my drift.”

Michael nods slowly. “I do. Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“All this time?”

Max sighs. “Hard to say. You know Roswell.” He shakes his head a little. “Wasn’t about to try something there. If I didn’t have to.”

“But you would? Try something?” Max is quiet. “Like, with, with a guy?”

Max shrugs again. “I mean, yeah, I guess? But… but what’s the point?” 

Michael just stares at him.

“I’m serious, Michael, what’s the point? Like, I’m asking you. Has it _ever _helped, really?”

Michael worries his lip a little. Speaks carefully. “I, I don’t think it’s, like, a _bad_ thing. To have fun, figure yourself out.”

“That what you were doing, all those years?” Michael tries to duck Max’s eyes. Can’t. “Cause that, that didn’t look fun, Michael. That looked like you were hurting and trying to figure out the best way to forget.”

Michael sniffs a little. “That was about more than just him.”

“I know,” Max says. “Part of me actually hoped maybe it would help you. With everything. But, over time, your arrest record said otherwise, you know?” Max sighs a little. “And I’m not stupid, Michael. I, I saw how you’d go underground for stretches, when he was home, then be, god, pissed at the world whenever he’d leave.”

It’s still too raw. Still too close to the surface to really talk about. He doesn’t want to break down in the goddamn bar.

“You ever talk about this? With him?” Max asks. 

“Didn’t do much talking,” Michael mutters.

Max nods. “Liz and I didn’t talk about it either. Makes me wonder. Do they feel it the way we do?” He bites his lip. “Sometimes I think, I think they couldn’t _possibly_, because if they did, if they _did…_”

He trails off and turns his head away. “Fuck,” Michael mutters. Max is crying. _Really _crying. Big, shuddery sobs. Michael is on him quickly, wrapping an arm around him, trying to shield him from other people’s questioning looks. “Hey,” he assures him. “Hey. Max.”

“She just _left_, Michael. She left. This time it was her. And I can’t blame anyone but myself.”

And shit… he’s right. There’s nothing Michael can really say to that. “Let’s go outside,” Michael says softly, throwing some money down and propping Max up as they take the closest exit. They’re in the back alley, and there are a few couples there too, wrapped up in each other. One of the bartenders taking a smoke break. He ushers Max a little farther away. Lets him cry, lets him grab Michael while he does it. 

Max pulls away after a while, face a mess. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. For this, and for all that time when you were just, just trying to be okay.”

Michael lets him cling to his jacket. Nods. “You were right,” he says after a while. “It, it didn’t help. Not really. So I don’t know why I thought this, tonight would help you.”

“So what do we do?” Max asks, looking – god, so sad. Lost.

Michael just looks upward, at the sky. Tries to catch a glimpse at the stars, the moon, but it’s too cloudy, maybe, or the lights of the city are too bright. It depresses him, and he looks back at Max. “We just do our best. We live our lives. Live them right. And try to be better. For them, yeah, but for us, too.” He shrugs. “It’s what I’m trying to do. Now. Only thing I can do, really.” He licks his lips, looks at Max. “This time, let’s not try to do it alone, though, okay?”

Max looks up at him sharply. “You promise?”

And before Michael knows it, he’s hugging him. “I promise you, Max. I promise.”


	14. Alex drunk-dials Michael during lost decade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a drabble (my first!) written for Alex Manes Week on Tumblr. Takes place during the lost decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content.

“The fuck did you do to me?””

The first guy –

Well, the first _not-Guerin_ guy, he was tall. Older. Probably a little too old, looking back on it. Alex never knew his name.

“I’m serious.”

There was Tony, who he’d known since basic. He’d cooked for Alex, the morning after.

“Did you, like, ruin me for other guys?”

And now Gustav. Nice. Built. Sound asleep while Alex drunk dials Guerin from a locked bathroom half a world away.

“What is it about you and - ”

“_If you are satisfied with this message, press 1. To continue recording –“_

Click. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a tumbler prompt requesting some Alex POV from "All Kinds of Time" (and AU in which Michael uses his powers to become a college football player). This takes place in that story when Alex unexpectedly encounters Michael at the restaurant in L.A. where he works.

“Just sat you a five top,” Nikki says offhandedly.

Alex blows out a breath. “Okay.”

“All dudes. Young.”

Alex snorts a little. “Great,” he says sarcastically. 

Nikki shoots him a little look. “Hey, Marti’s section is full right now.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Everyone had their sweet spots. Alex got his best tips from groups of women and middle-aged executive types. Marti usually cleaned up with the younger guys who were trying to impress her.

“See if you can stretch it out,” she says. “You talked to Hiro?”

Alex nods. “Yeah. Sounds crazy back there.”

“Like, it’s not about to crash, but… you know.”

“Sure do,” Alex says. Gives Nikki a nice smile. “Thanks.”

She laughs. “Charmer. Get back in there,” she says, shooing him with her hand.

Still chuckling, Alex rubs his hands on his little black half-apron. Glances out at the floor and sees them. Five men. Two of the guys are really big. Built. Athletes, maybe? That would be okay.

He mentally reviews the special – some octopus dish with shiso leaf – and makes his way over.

“Welcome to Umi,” he says smoothly. “My name is Alex, and I’ll be your server this evening.” He looks around the table politely at the men, one after another, until –

“Guerin, oh my god.”

It’s him.

Fuck, it’s actually him. Right here.

One of the bigger guys starts to laugh. “Big Bruins fan?”

Bruins? Shit, yeah, UCLA, that’s Michael’s team now. He… he’s the fucking quarterback there. And Alex, god, he can’t look at him right now. It’s been _years, _and –

“No man,” he hears, and that voice, shit. He chances a little look in Michael’s direction. “This is Alex,” Michael’s saying, giving his… teammate, maybe, one of those easy smiles of his, open and guileless. “We went to high school together.” Alex gives a tight little smile, directs it at no one in particular, because, yeah, they did, and Michael’s clearly just being polite about this, but then…

Michael, Michael’s biting his lip. And maybe Alex is just seeing what he wants, imagining things, but… he’s been on the receiving end of an up-and-down look before. An appraisal. And, and it _sure _seems to him like that’s what Michael’s doing right now. Nothing, like, creepy. In fact, it’s really subtle. Covert. So Alex lets himself look, too. Michael’s… god, he’s beautiful. He, he’s a fucking college quarterback now. Division I, as Alex has learned from his Google alerts. It’s different, seeing him in the flesh, as opposed to action shots of him on the field, the official team headshot on the UCLA website…

“It’s because of this guy that I threw my first football.”

Alex’s eyes widen. What? He looks right at Michael, trying to see if he’s lying or not, just spinning some fantasy. But Michael’s looking right at him, holding his gaze, and fuck. He never realized that was Michael’s first time throwing a football, all those years ago. And he knows why Michael did it. Knows it was for _him_.

Then the biggest guy’s laughing, clapping Michael on the back with enough force that it shoves him forward a little. “No way!” He directs an easy little smile up at Alex. “We owe you one, man!”

And it feels like a dismissal. Michael’s looking down at his lap now, sneaking a glance at Alex now and then, and Alex… well. Alex isn’t dumb. Wasn’t dumb in high school, and isn’t dumb now. He remembers what Michael was like, back in Roswell. Remembers the rumors about him, and remembers the way football was his best and only escape route from their dead end town. Remembers how just the _thought _of anything getting in the way of Michael’s success made him clamp down on his own feelings, shut them the fuck down to help preserve any chance of Michael actually making it.

And he’s made it.

And... and hotshot college quarterbacks don’t have _boyfriends._

So Alex takes a deep breath. Looks at Michael one last time, then looks away. Slaps on his polite customer service smile, leans in a bit, and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Can I interest you gentlemen in some drinks?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
